Eternally Bound
by Julie Christine
Summary: People always talk about a "love for the ages", but none compares to that of Merlin and Deloria. He and Arthur find her in the woods, scared, beaten, and pregnant. She barely speaks a word to them, but Merlin sees her as something more.
1. Prologue

**Prologue.**

Do you ever run for so long that your muscles feel so strained and your lungs burn like fire? That you feel as though you are about to collapse at any second, but you know that if you stop you will surely die? I want, more than anything, to be able to go back and take him with me, hide him away in the forest and live peacefully like the family we had always promised to be.

I don't know when I'll see him next. I don't know if I ever _will_ see him again. Running, now, I realize was the worst idea. I should have stayed. I should have done what I could to help him, to help anyone. Instead, I did what I did best – I left.

_Emrys_, I thought his name sadly.

I stopped, only for a moment, to look back at the trail I had run. Of course I could not see Camelot through the thick forest trees, nor could I hear the clashing of swords against shields, but I knew – somewhere down there, a war was raging, a war that would test the King, his guardsmen, and his people. A war that would test his right hand's ability to follow through with the prophecy to protect the King at all costs.

Once I thought I had caught my breath enough, I knew it was foolish to even think about returning. I would be killed the moment I stepped onto Camelot's city boundaries.

So I turned around and kept running and praying that soon, some day, Merlin would find me again, as we both promised.


	2. Chapter One

**Chapter One.**

There is no better way to start a story than to tell you about myself. I am Deloria, of Zerca. My mother died giving birth to me, and my father resented me from the moment of its occurrence. He never has treated me like a daughter – more of a slave to do his bidding. I slept in the loft on our small, rundown stable atop of old hay. If I wasn't awake by the time the sun was up, my father would come and tear me up by my hair and drag me down to the horse stalls, throw me in, and tell me to muck them out, along with a list of other chores that must be completed that day. I always remembered them.

I never fought back. I saw no need. I would never win against him. Hidden under his potbelly were strong muscles that I knew could do me great harm if I ever sounded the least bit defiant. I could never run away, either. My father was the elder of the tiny village, meaning he held everyone at his disposal. If I left, he would send every man after me.

He would always tell me, after long nights in the tavern, that he despised me. He would say if I were never born, then Aeia, my mother, would still be alive. He said it often enough that after twenty years, I believed it myself.

I had no friends growing up. I had no one to play games with, but myself. I never spoke when I went to the nearest town on market days or tilled our field with the other villagers. I was afraid if I ever said anything that I would say something remotely cruel about my father and he would somehow hear about it.

My father wasn't cruel to everyone. He treated all the other villagers with respect, mostly because they brought in the profit in the town. Everyone worked for everything, and therefore no one was worse off than anyone else. Everyone had a job, and they stuck to it. When they went off-course, that was when my father's worst would come out, though he made the village prosper.

The first time my father lied with me in the stable after a heavy drinking spell at the tavern, I was fourteen. He kept calling me by my mother's name, moaning and weeping _Aeia, Aeia…_ When the morning came and he awoke, I was curled up against the wall. I hadn't slept, but I hadn't left either. All I felt was broken – fractured into tiny little pieces. From then on when he would lie with me, I could only feel those fractures growing smaller and smaller. I wondered how long it would take for me to be reduced to nothing but dust. Whenever he awoke in the morning, he would slap me several times, asking me why I was weeping like a newborn child. Then he would leave, but not before barking orders at me for my chores of the day.

I realized I was with child when it was the winter after I'd just turned my twentieth name day. The child could be no one else's but my father's, and it was in that moment of realization that I knew what kind of monster he was. He hid behind a mask to the people, but to me he was nothing but evil, and the child only proved it. After I found out, I knew I could never resent the child – it had done nothing wrong, it was merely created out of evil means. I also knew that I could not let it be raised in the same household as the man that created it.

Finally, I had a reason to escape, and I soon created a simple plan to do it – market day.

Three weeks later when the day came, I tried not to show it on my face how elated I was to finally be rid of the monster known as my father. I packed up the mule – I never took the horse to market day, so it would be a dead giveaway if I did something different – and took all the money I had saved from the last couple of market days that I didn't hand over to my father. I couldn't risk bringing anything else. I latched on the cart, wrapped my thick wool cloak tighter around my arms, and began to lead the mule out of the village.

There was no fanfare. There was no celebration, or music, or mead, but when I escaped our village's limit, a smile grew over my face. My father would not know something was wrong until hours from now. I used to be frightened of him or his men finding me, but now I was more than ready to leave him and his evils behind.

I went a couple villages over, selling the creaky cart for a few bronze pieces and trading in the young, sturdy mule for an old horse. I was told she couldn't ride fast, but that didn't matter to me. All that mattered was that she could be ridden.

I trotted out of the village, feeling nothing but happiness in my heart. I placed a gentle hand on my stomach, telling it that everything would be fine now.

* * *

I stopped to rest that evening in the forest. Before noon the next day, I would arrive within the famed Camelot's borders. There was nothing but optimism inside me. I felt like I was glowing with it, radiating it from my every pore.

_I could make it as a barmaid, or work in the fields,_ I told myself. _I could have enough money by the time the child comes to live a comfortable life._

I made a fire to keep warm through the night. The clouds were dark, and I prayed to any god that would listen that snow would not fall. I did not have enough dry wood to make it through to the morning. All I could rely on was my cloak and the deepness of sleep.

After feeding the horse the bit of food I had, I positioned myself close to the fire, threw in the rest of my wood, and closed my eyes.

When my eyes snapped open, I shot up and looked around, wondering what had woken me. Then I heard it again.

_Crack_.

A twig, somewhere in the wood, had broken. Several more broke before I realized that it was no animal that was coming upon me – it was my father's men. They must have somehow distinguished the hoof prints from all the rest leaving the village and tracked them to the outlying village and then to here.

I quickly threw snow onto the fire, extinguishing it and ran for the horse that was asleep and tied to the tree. I quickly undid the leather holding her to the trunk and jumped onto her back, quickly awakening her. She let out a loud _neigh_ in shock, but I nudged her sides to tell her to gallop.

"Over here!" I heard someone shout behind me. I took the chance to look over my shoulder, and in the darkness I could barely make out several moving shadows – some on horses, some on foot leading dogs – racing towards me.

I tried nudging the old horse more to get her to move faster, but I could feel her bones creaking below me, just straining to move as it was.

"Please," I begged to her, "Please just make it to Camelot."

I looked over my shoulder again, and saw the shadows were only a little closer. Behind them, I realized the sky was becoming lighter. The sun was rising, which meant the people of Camelot would be waking soon. Someone would be able to help me. I prayed and prayed that I would just make it to their city limits in time.

The old horse seemed to begin to sense my fear, for she began to gallop just a little faster. Hope sprung in my chest.

As the sun kept creeping over the horizon, I kept looking over my shoulder. The shadows were smaller now, but I could still clearly hear their whooping and hollering. There was no way they were going to let up the chase. They were, after all, people that respected my father. I could only guess what he'd told them to chase me this far away from our village.

Suddenly a squirrel darted across our path, which seemed to frighten the old horse. She immediately stopped and reared up, knocking me off and making me _thud_ onto the cold, snowy ground. She immediately ran off in the opposite direction too fast for me to grab a hold and calm her.

"No!" I yelled, getting up. I would have gone after her if I weren't being chased and so close to Camelot.

The men were close now, I knew. Their voices were booming throughout the forest. I wasted no time in running the path I knew to the city, jumping over fallen, rotten logs and weaving through the trees. There was a hill up ahead, and I knew a river was just on the other side. It was the border. I used up all my energy climbing up the slippery, wet slope. Once I was over the hill, the sun was fully raised and the pack of men were also beginning to climb.

I knew my odds. I knew I would never be able to cross the river without the men using their bow and arrows to shoot me down. They would go back to my father and say something along the lines of, "She was attacked by wolves before we could reach her."

But I had no choice. A moving target is better than a sitting one, so I took my chances, took in a deep breath, and braced myself for the cold water.

Luckily this river wasn't a fast flowing one; otherwise my tiny body would no doubt be carried away within an instant. It also wasn't very deep, so I wouldn't have to drench myself swimming to the other side.

Soon enough, I saw arrows landing in the water nearby me. The men of my village weren't fighters, but they were hunters. They mostly shot close-range though, so shooting a target further away was mostly difficult for them. I reminded myself that it only took one shot, though, for them to kill me. There were many of them, so I knew it would come sooner or later.

Well, it came sooner. It wasn't a kill shot, though. One went straight into my shoulder, and poked out the front. I stumbled forward a bit before the pain overtook me and I yelled out. I pushed myself forward, my mind persuading me to keep moving forward. It wasn't bad enough for me to lose a lot of blood, and therefore I wasn't in ultimate danger in that second. I _had_ to cross that river, and I had to make it without harming myself too much. So I kept wading through the icy waters.

Only a few moments later, another arrow lodged itself into my leg, just above my knee. The water slowed it down only just, and it did not make it all the way through like the one in my shoulder had. I screamed out again in pain, and clutched my leg. The small current of the water made it feel as though the arrow were trying to tear my leg off. I touched it only lightly, which made me scream out even more in pain. I gritted my teeth together, breathed heavily, and continued on. The pain was overwhelmingly excruciating, but I kept moving forward. I wasn't dead yet, therefore I still had a chance to make it across.

I heard splashing and saw that a few of the men had also begun to cross the river in pursuit of me. This only made me try to move faster, though I was beginning to lose feeling in my feet. Soon enough, I felt as though my legs couldn't move anymore. I couldn't feel anything, but the throbbing pain of the arrow lodged in my thigh. The men were gaining on me.

I made it to the shore, but only just. I crawled up the bank, limping and gripping my leg, urging it forward. "Come on, come on…" I muttered to myself. I had made it this far, and I wasn't about to give up yet. Victory was so close.

I tried using the trees for stability and to propel myself forward, but when I looked behind me, I saw the men were already on the shore. When I turned around again, I could just make out the path used by knights to travel back to the city.

"HELP!" I screamed, my voice breaking from exhaustion. "Someone please help me!"

I tried walking forward more, to reach the path, but I could no longer feel anything below my waist and fell to the cold ground. I grabbed at the frozen earth, trying to push myself forward, as if that would bring me to safety.

Their feet circled me, and one picked me up by my hair, only making me scream out in pain.

"Just where do you think you're going, Del?" I recognized the voice as one of my father's tavern buddies. "Running, are we?"

"Let me go," I begged, weeping. "Please let me go."

"Oh, I don't think so," he responded.

My body was throbbing with pain. Every movement was excruciating. Another man came up and tied my hands behind my back. I could not fight back because of my limp arm from the arrow, but I tried kicking at anything I could with my good leg. I heard a solid _snap_ behind me. I had broken one of the men's shins but it wasn't enough. He finished tying my hands and my father's friend threw me on the ground.

"You know above all else, no one defies your father, girl." He spat at me and a second later his boot met my chest. Something broke inside me, only making me scream out again. I wanted to tell them to stop, that I was with child, but that would only prompt them to do worse.

Someone else picked me up. Their fist met my cheek quick and hard, knocking me down yet again. I was useless to fight against them. The arrow in my shoulder snapped off a little. I screamed in agony.

_Please just kill me,_ I begged. _I'd rather be dead than be taken back to my father_.

The hits kept coming. I was like a sack of flour to them, unable to fight back or move or anything. I gave up. I had tried to win, but it failed. All hope was lost to me. It got to the point where I no longer felt the pain, I only heard the sickening _thud, thud, thud_ of them kicking, punching, and throwing me. Just when the blackness was going to come over me, I heard horse hooves stomping on the ground and shouting. I could only guess more of my villagers had come to do their business with me.

But no one else touched me. Instead, I heard gurgled moans and bodies falling to the ground. Within seconds, the men began running off. I heard people talking, but their voices were muffled as though they were speaking through a cloth.

"We need to take her to Gaius," I understood someone say close by.

"Just kill me," I muttered. "Please kill me."

I felt someone arms go under me, scooping me up. I winced and let out a grunt of pain before I passed out.


	3. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two.**

My head was throbbing. That alone was like a slingshot into consciousness. My eyes popped open and I sat up in the bed. Suddenly everything was hurting. I had to ignore that, though. I looked around myself frantically surprised I was still alive and not even chained to a wall. I tried to put my right hand to my forehead as if that would stop the pounding, but it was bandaged and in a sling. I tried to remember what had happened, but everything was so fuzzy. All I could remember were the kicks and punches and the arrows, and then everything went black.

I threw off the blankets using my other hand and lifted my skirt and saw my thigh bandaged tightly, where the other arrow shot me.

_The baby,_ I thought. I placed a hand on my stomach, afraid of whether it was still inside me, alive.

Around me was plain room. Plain stonewalls. I was sitting on a bed. There was a table next to the bet with only a cup. I picked it up and saw water. I drank it down hungrily, not realizing how parched my lips and throat was.

I heard shuffling in the next room, and I immediately looked at the door.

_Escape_, was the one thing that came to mind.

Wincing, I got myself off the bed. The pain in my abdomen was too much for me to stand straight, so I had to be hunched over and I limped my way to the door. Through the wooden pane cracks of the door, I peaked through to see what lay beyond. There were two people – maybe more, I couldn't tell – talking in very hushed voices. I could see their lips moving, but couldn't hear the words. There were books and glass instruments strewn about the room. It was much more full than the room I was in now. The two people I could see were one old man and one quite young, standing close. The older one, whose hair was long and white, was putting something in a bowl. When he seemed satisfied, the younger boy took the pestle and began crushing the ingredients.

The first idea that popped into my mind was poison – they were going to fulfill my last wishes and kill me. I was foolish then. Now I wanted, more than anything, to escape and be finally free.

I turned away from the door just as I saw the old one add a liquid to the mortar. I saw a window, but it was too high to get to and too small to crawl out of. Besides the window, there was no other way of escape.

Before I could plan any further, the door creaked open and in walked the younger boy. He first looked at the bed and became confused then when he glanced around the room, he saw me cowering against the wall.

"Oh," he said, smiling. "You're awake."

He stepped in and walked closer to me, but that only made me cower against the stone wall more. He stopped, and looked confused again.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, looking over my sickly bruised body. I still said nothing. I eyed him warily, wondering what he was up to. He seemed too nice to poison me, but then again I also never thought my entire village would try to murder me.

The boy sighed and set down the mortar of paste. He didn't move towards me anymore, but I watched his movement closely. Any moment he could come at me, and this time I was determined to take a stand. Once the boy was out, the old man shouldn't be too difficult to take down.

"My name is Merlin," he said slowly, pointing to himself. He was acting like I was simple-minded, not a complete, competent person.

_Merlin_.

The name sounded familiar. Maybe he stopped into Zerca once or twice for wheat – our main export. I could have met him before at the market, but that was highly unlikely; I rarely ever spoke to anyone. I raked my brain for the source of his name, and why it drew no fear to me.

_Merlin_.

In realization, my eyes snapped up to meet his.

"Merlin," I breathed in shock. "I-I… This is Camelot," I said stupidly.

Merlin nodded. "Yes, it is."

I felt my lips twitch into a smile. "I made it."

Merlin stepped timidly closer to me, picking up the mortar again. "I should really take care of your wounds before they get infected." He motioned to the bed.

I swallowed, and reluctantly went to sit down. Despite knowing who he was, I was still a little frightened. Merlin sat next to me and began putting the paste over my wounds.

"What's your name?" he asked softly.

"Deloria," I answered, wincing as he touched the stuff onto my skin.

"It's going to sting a bit," Merlin told me. "What exactly happened in the woods?"

I gritted my teeth. I wanted nothing more than to erase those hours out of my head. I knew who Merlin was to the king, so I couldn't very well go out and say my village attacked me. I had a feeling that wouldn't bode too well for the king or the village.

"Bandits," I lied, saying so almost too quickly. "I was attacked by bandits."

Merlin looked at me, as if he knew I was lying, but didn't say anything about it.

"Why were you in the woods?" he asked, looking away from me and back to my cuts.

"I–" I stuttered, "I was on my way to your market. Zerca, you see, didn't have all the things we needed, so I figured I would come to Camelot's market to get what I needed."

"That's a long trip," said Merlin. "You're from Zerca?"

I nodded. "My father's the elder of the village."

Merlin smiled again, and I couldn't help but smile back. Something about him was contagious. He began to unwrap my arm and I winced as it was let free.

"That must be pretty prestigious, to be the elder's daughter. Especially of Zerca. That village is one of our best," he said.

I swallowed. "Yeah, it is – prestigious, I mean."

"Well," Merlin said, "Gaius and I will have you patched up in no time so you can return. I'm sure you'll find everything you need in our markets."

"No!" I said quickly before thinking. Merlin looked confusedly at me and I went on, "I – I can't go back."

Merlin's eyebrows scrunched together. "Why not? Won't your father miss you?"

Thinking of my father made my insides twist. "I don't think so."

Merlin said, "I don't understand."

I bit the inside of my cheek nervously. "I just can't go back." Merlin's expression didn't change. Something about me must have convinced him to not ask any further questions. I quickly decided to say something – anything – else. "You have magic. Why don't you just use that to heal me?"

Merlin's smile slipped onto his lips again after he lifted my skirt only high enough to reach the other bandage and take it off, and he replied, "Since magic's ban has begun to lift, there are still a few who are weary of it. I just wanted to play it safe. The last thing I want is to frighten you, Deloria." He applied the paste to my leg and I drew in a sharp breath.

I shook my head. "Since I was little I would hear the men of my village say how disgusted they were in people who used magic; they said sorcerers were just lazy workers, who chose to use magic instead of their hands to get things done." I shrugged. "I always found magic fascinating. Of course, I could never tell anyone because it was so forbidden. Anyone who even seemed that of a sorcerer would be either cast out or killed. At least, until King Arthur lifted the ban."

Merlin nodded. "The fact he decided to let me live after what I'd done was astonishing," he said, "let alone the fact that he allows magic – somewhat, at least."

I managed a small smile. "So it's true."

Merlin set the mortar down and leaned back a little on the bed. "Depends what you know. Rumors float about faster than a bird can fly."

"In the market one day, I heard the women whispering that the King had survived the fight of Camlann, by not only the hand of his boy servant who had magic, but also by a dragon."

"Kilgharrah," said Merlin.

"Hm?"

"The dragon," he said looking down into his hands. He began scraping off the paste that had begun to harden on his fingertips. "His name was Kilgharrah."

I suspected a sensitive subject, so I said, "I'm sorry. I'm sure he was a noble dragon."

The boy nodded. "He was. He most certainly was."

I turned to Merlin. "I should be going."

"Going? Where?"

I shrugged. "Anywhere. I need to find a home and a job somewhere here. I need to start a new life, one for me and one for my child." I placed hand on my still-flat stomach, half-expecting it to be round with child for some reason.

A look crossed Merlin's face that made me want to run and never find out what he was about to say. He slowly moved closer, taking my hands into his large, warm, calloused ones.

"Deloria," he said cautiously, "When we got to you… there was blood. Too much blood. I could sense you were with child, but when we got back… There was nothing more Gaius or I could do. Your baby… Your baby is gone."

It felt like someone had kicked me in the gut again. The world began to swim around in my vision, and I had to grip the bed to steady myself. I closed my eyes until I felt the world be still around me again.

"Who is the father?" Merlin asked, unaware as to the pain he had just inflicted with those four words. "I will send one of the knights to him and let him know."

I just shook my head. "It was girl."

"…What?" asked Merlin a little confused.

"The baby," I whispered, my voice lost somewhere in the past. "It was a girl. I could feel it."

"Deloria," Merlin said sitting beside me again. "The father – who's the father?"

I shook my head again. "No one. A monster of a man."

"That's why you came here – to get away from him."

I could only nod. I couldn't bring myself to reveal who the man was to Merlin, afraid of how he would take it. Would he judge me? Would he cast me out like my village did his kind, only months ago? Would the knights go to Zerca and kill my father? He was a monster, but he didn't deserve to be killed.

"Deloria," Merlin called. My mind suddenly resurfaced; I didn't know how many times he called my name. "Deloria, you do not need to worry about a thing. You are safe here, in Camelot. Until you are well, you can stay here in our place and then I will help you find a job and a home. I promise you, I will keep you safe. I promise you with my life."

I looked up at him, my vision blurry from the tears. Never in my life had someone been this kind to me. "Thank you," I said, my voice wavering. "Thank you, Merlin."

"You should rest," he told me. "Your wounds will heal faster if you sleep."

"You can just use your magic, you know." I shrugged. "It doesn't bother me."

He looked worried. "Are you sure? I can heal them only just. You will have scars, maybe even some scabbing. The bruises will not go away, but they will hurt less and appear weeks old. Magic has its limits."

I nodded. "I'll take that over this pain any day."

Concern crossed his face. "You're in pain."

I lightly touched his knee. "Only for a few more moments."

He nodded, and held his hands out towards me. He shut his eyes then muttered the phrase, "_Accipite haec, et a vulneribus tuis sanabo_."

_Take these words and heal thy wounds._

The magic worked within seconds. One moment I was wounded and hurt, and the next I looked like I would a month from now. The only sensation I could feel of the magic was a slight tickling feeling that ebbed away. I moved my shoulder and was ecstatic to know it could move nearly in a full rotation. My leg felt better, as well.

When Merlin opened his eyes, his face dropped slightly from what looked like shock. "Wow," he breathed.

"What?" My hand reached up to my face, touching it worriedly. What happened? Did something go wrong?

After realizing my worry, Merlin smiled brightly and shook his head. "Oh, no, everything is fine. It's just… your face. The swelling has gone down around your cheekbones. It's… your beautiful."

Heat rushed to my face. No one had ever been so nice to me, let alone call me beautiful. Not even my father when he was in a drunken stupor and thought I was my mother. I swallowed nervously and stood from the bed. The pain was gone, all of it.

"Thank you," I muttered, still in shock at his words. "Again, I mean. Thank you… again." He nodded and stood as well. "I guess… I guess this means I am free to leave." I turned to the door but Merlin grabbed my wrist. Out of instinct I yanked it back and twisted to face him. I was about to mutter "sorry" when he stopped me.

"I said I would help you find a home and a job, and I will. I must go to the King – come with me? He knows of your condition and will be glad to see you are alright. And I'm sure he can find you some work."

"The… The _King_? You want me… to go with you… to see the King Arthur…"

Merlin chuckled. "You needn't be afraid, Deloria. I promise you he is as harmful as a mouse – unless you happen to be me or an enemy, of course."

I smiled back. What was I supposed to say? No? Stories of Arthur had travelled around about his conquests and his victories and his compassion for almost four years now. To meet him personally was a true honor, mostly only bestowed to his knights, his wife, or his servants.

"Of course," I said smiling. "I would love to meet the King."


End file.
